


our gentle sin

by englishghosts



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Blasphemy, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Tomas speaks Spanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12744138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishghosts/pseuds/englishghosts
Summary: He has always seen people use “God moves in mysterious ways” to justify bad actions, but Godhadsent him to Marcus. Maybe this had always been inevitable.





	our gentle sin

**Author's Note:**

> I put blasphemy in the tags just to be on the safe side, but this is an extremely tame fic.
> 
> Title taken from Hozier's Take Me To Church, which I guess is mandatory for this pairing? (BTW, songs that use religious imagery to talk about love are my jam, so feel free to recommend. This ship definitely deserves a fanmix)
> 
> Spanish translations at the end notes (although I don't actually speak Spanish, so please correct me if something is off).

It turns out in the end of the world, all your previous concerns matter very little. Tomas kisses Marcus, tasting blood from the punch he took earlier, and Marcus lets him. It's definitely not something that would have come up in any _dónde te ves en cinco años_ , but then again, neither would being an exorcist, and he finds he doesn’t care. By now he has seen too much, been through too much. He has always seen people use “God moves in mysterious ways” to justify bad actions, but God _had_ sent him to Marcus. Maybe this had always been inevitable.  
  
There is a purple bruise blossoming against the pale skin on Marcus' neck. Tomas presses his fingers against it, and Marcus tilts his head back with a moan. It's an invitation, and Tomas takes it, touches the column of his throat first with his fingers, then with his lips.  
  
"We shouldn't..." Marcus starts, with a tremble in his voice, but he is gripping Tomas' hair tight. His other hand is on the back of Tomas’ neck, cold fingers curling on his nape, maybe half unconsciously, and Tomas’ collar is the first thing to go. It feels fitting to remove this evidence of his priesthood. They are just two men now.  
  
Marcus’ shirt is next, the soft, worn fabric falling easily from his shoulders, and Tomas runs his hands through Marcus chest, lingers on the different texture of his scars. Marcus is positively shaking now, far from his usual self, and it's curious to not see him take the lead for once. It's a heady feeling that Marcus would open himself like this to him, would trust Tomas with something far more breakable than his life.  
  
Marcus returns the favor, opening Tomas' shirt and letting it fall to the floor. He pulls Tomas close then, presses them together and hides his face against Tomas' neck, breathing deeply. His short hair feels good against Tomas' skin, and it's like this, tangled in each other, that they stumble backwards until they reach the nearest bed.  
  
The bed creaks under the weight of two grown men (it seems too small for one person, even, but it’s what they could afford for tonight), but the sheets smell clean. They lay side by side, facing each other with only the space of a breath between them, lest they fall off. By now, Marcus has a flush that spreads all the way to his chest, and it's endearing. _Güero_ , like his sister used to call a boy she liked in school, even his eyelashes are light against his cheek as his eyes flutter closed. He puts a hand on Tomas’ hip, a question forming on his lips, and Tomas’ kisses it away, because the answer is yes, will always be yes, _sí, a cualquier cosa_.  
  
There is not enough space to actually remove the rest of their clothes without getting up, which neither seem to feel very much like doing, so open zippers suffice. Tomas can’t help the loud moan that escapes his lips when Marcus touches him, and for a few seconds he doesn't dare to breathe, certain everyone in miles will have heard him. Marcus, on the other hand, is quiet, breath coming in short gasps, and Tomas wonders if it’s his nature or something borne out of a learned necessity.  
  
Tomas has never been with a man before, but this beginning is simple enough, and before long, he has Marcus pushing himself insistently against him, his hand flying faster on Tomas' flesh. Tomas fights the urge to moan, still mindful of the thin walls, and muffles his noises against Marcus' shoulder. His name falls from Marcus' lips in a soft litany of _TomasTomasTomas_ and it feels as sacred as any prayer, as Marcus stills and shudders against him. His own release is close too, and he catches himself unable to distinguish what he's saying, and in what language. It hits him like an electric shock, leaves him breathless and limp in Marcus' arms.  
  
"This feels like being a seminarist all over again", Marcus whispers after a few minutes, with a low chuckle.  
  
" _Hacías_..." Tomas begins, his brain still not caught up. "Did you do this a lot?"  
  
"Well, not a lot. Father Sean would have my balls if we were ever caught", Marcus laughs again. "The clean-up is the worst part."  
  
Tomas is forced to agree. They are tangled and sticky and the bed is a mess, but his limbs feel too heavy to move. " _Dame un momento_ ", he says, but his eyelids fall shut of their own accord.  
  
He wakes up to Marcus cleaning him up with a tissue, and is persuaded by gentle hands to take his pants all the way off and move to the other, clean bed. After some rearranging, he falls asleep again with Marcus' breath in his ear.

He doesn’t dream.

**Author's Note:**

>  _¿Dónde te ves en cinco años?_ \- Where do you see yourself in five years?  
>  _Güero_ \- Mexican slang for a light-skinned person  
>  _Sí, a cualquier cosa_ \- Yes, anything  
>  _Dame un momento_ \- Just a second
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://englishghosts.tumblr.com) .


End file.
